


Yaiyai'yc - Satisfied

by SapphicSeamstress



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, F/M, Fluff, Good Parent Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, No Smut, Single Parents, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29824383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicSeamstress/pseuds/SapphicSeamstress
Summary: Your hands are full, running a failing general store and a fairly successful bakery, while raising your two teenaged siblings. So, you're really not thinking about adding any romance to the picture. So what will happen when a tiny green baby and his overprotective father come into your life?This is going to be a sugar daddy AU, yes I am going to pretend Din Djarin isn't broke, and yes, he is the Mand'alor in this one.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's been approximately forever since I posted anything I've written, and this is my first fic in the Star Wars universe, so if I get anything wrong, let me know but please be gentle ꈍ .̮ ꈍ

It was still hours before sunrise when you woke. Porridge for breakfast, _again;_ that's what you got for running a store that nobody really needed, you supposed. Technically, you had better food available, but you had a pretty strict policy of staying out of the inventory until the straits were much more dire than they were at the moment. Much as your taste buds longed for… really, anything else, you couldn't spare the income that you would lose by eating even one of the shop's pastries. The fresh-baked goods were really the only thing people came here for anymore.

Your family's general store was one of thousands on Taris; competition was fierce in an ecumenopolis, and your storefront bore the evidence of each phase of your popularity. Right now (and for as long as you could remember), you were in a "rough patch". Your parents had left it to the three of you after they'd passed, and while your siblings were still in school, you worked more or less round-the-clock keeping the store running. If you could just sell your stock of the other products, you could transform the shop into a bakery, maybe even get a new sign… but that seemed unlikely. You couldn't remember the last time anyone even browsed through your non-snack products.

Your youngest sister, Madevan, grumbled to herself as she stumbled, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen for breakfast. 

"Morning, kiddo," you greeted her. She pulled a face at you, but otherwise didn't reply. "Did you see if Stel was up yet?" She threw you a look, taking a bite of her porridge before answering. 

"When was the last time Stel was up before 8? They're always up late talking to their _boyfriend."_ You rolled your eyes. The two teens were much closer in age to each other than to you, and they bickered relentlessly. 

"Fine, I'll get them up. Would you put the kettle on, please?"

Once Estelil- the middle child, ten years your junior and two years older than Vannie- was up, you finished your routine, making yourself a cup of caf, dressing, and heading downstairs to sweep the sidewalk out front of the shop. Once you had finished, you washed your hands, then arranged the few pastries that hadn't sold by the end of yesterday in a basket on the counter. You pulled the first of the chilled doughs out of the conservator and began rolling out the croissants. 

* * *

The majority of the morning passed in relative peace; around half six, you flipped the sign to 'open', and your first few regulars came through within the hour. There was always a bit of a lull between seven and eight, after the go-getters, but before the masses. Something felt a little strange, this time. You weren't sure what, until around a quarter past seven, you heard a baby crying outside your door. You wiped the flour off your hands on a damp cloth and went outside to check what had happened. 

A tiny, green child, with big, brown eyes and bat-like ears, was sitting, his legs out in front of him, and sniffling. "You lost, little guy? Hungry?" You asked. "Did you hurt your knee?" He looked up at you with those big, watery eyes, holding his arms up and making grabbing motions. "Oh- okay," you said, gently picking him up. "Let's see, where are your folks?"

You looked up and down the sidewalk, as well as the hovercar lane that the shopfront was on. You didn't see anyone who looked like they could be his parent, and the only person who stood out to you at all was a Mandalorian, who, as you watched from behind a crowd of people, looked down at his bag, as if expecting to see something in it; upon realizing it was empty, his shoulders tensed, and he turned back the way he came, jogging a little. "Huh. Hope he finds his canteen or whatever," you said to the little guy, as you turned to go back into the shop. 

"Alright. Here's the deal. You can stay, but you have to stay out of trouble, alright?" He blinked at you, and you took that to mean he understood, at least enough. "We'll wait a little while in case your folks come and find you, but if you're still here by ten, I'll have to call the cops to find them and get you home safe and sound. Sounds good, right? Come on, help me make a fresh batch of these hamantaschen." You hummed to yourself, settling the kid in one of the chairs behind the counter that your siblings used if they came to keep you company while doing their homework. 

About thirty minutes later, when you were pinching up the edges of one of the last cookies, the bells rang again. You wiped your hands with a damp cloth, turning to face- the Mandalorian from earlier. He looked absolutely distraught, from his body language.

"Hi, how can I he-" 

"-Have you seen a baby come through here? He's about this…" (here, he gestured with his leather-gloved hands) "...big, and he's green, with big brown eyes, and-" the baby cooed, laughing and waving to the armoured man with the day-old strudel you'd given him. The Mando turned his head towards the kid, the rest of his body still as he pointed at him. "Don't wander off like that," he scolded him. 

"Is he your son?" You asked, positioning yourself slightly between the child and the stranger. Your hand crept towards the blaster under the counter. Mandalorians had a reputation, and much as you didn't know this man, you were reluctant to hand a kid over to a probable mercenary. 

"Yes, and he's _always_ getting into trouble. Come on, Grogu. Say thank you to the nice lady and let's go." His voice was much more gentle when he spoke to the baby this time. You hesitated, but the kid jumped to the floor much more nimbly than you thought was possible for a toddler, and ran to the Mandalorian. His strudel was still clutched in his little hand. The warrior lifted him up gently, turning back to you. He ignored the way the kid's sticky hands smeared berry filling on his visor in a way that was all too familiar from your time taking care of your siblings as babies. _Alright, fine._ It didn't seem likely that someone who would hurt the kid would put up with that. You relaxed. 

"Thank you," he said. "I hope he hasn't been too much trouble…" you waved him off. 

"He's been an angel, isn't that right?" The kid grinned with the few teeth he had. "He tripped just outside about half an hour ago. I looked around, and I saw you from a distance, but I didn't realize he was yours. Sorry about that, I could have saved you some worry." The man shook his head. 

"No, you made the right call for the information you had. Besides, you not only kept him safe, you fed him. Is there any way I can thank you?" 

This guy was growing on you. He was gentle with the kid, tickling under his chin as he checked him over for injuries. 

"Like I said, he was fine. I don't need anything. Honestly, I should thank him, nothing this exciting has happened around here in years," you laughed. "Here," you told Mando, gently pressing a small brown paper bag with a fresh strudel into his hand. You knew you shouldn't, but… he seemed like a nice guy, and his day had started pretty rough. "One for you, too. I hope you have a good day." When he spoke again, his voice was soft. 

"Thank you, that's… you're very kind." And with that, he walked out the door. 

You didn't notice him return later, while you were talking with a customer, and drop an envelope in your mailbox. 

* * *

When Stel got home from school later that day, they dropped something on the counter in front of you.

"Letter," they said, before flopping into the chair where the kid had sat earlier. 

"Hey, how was school?" You asked, pulling a sheet of your best seller- chocolatines- from the oven. They shrugged.

"The usual. Nearly had a breakdown in Art because of something Mini said. It was so funny, the teacher thought I was dying." You chuckled. 

"How's that oil painting coming along?" You asked, turning the envelope over. It was marked simply "thank you" in messy handwriting. You smiled. That Mando from earlier, almost certainly. 

"Oh, it's alright, I'm having a bit of trouble with getting any sharp edges in, but that's probably because we have to dilute the fuck out of it." You slid the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it carefully. 

"Don't swear," you told Stel absentmindedly as you began to read. 

_Thank you for your help with Grogu earlier. I know you said that you didn't need anything, but he seemed to really like you. The pastry was really good. I hope you have a nice day._

Inside, you find a drawing, clearly by the child. There are three figures scribbled in; a green, small one, who you took to be the child; on his left, a big, gray one, with a surprisingly neat T-shape for the visor on his helmet; and on his right, a medium sized, blue person, in the same colour as your dress. You nearly teared up, pinning it to the conservator. 

"Hey, what's that?" Stel asked, standing to look. 

"Oh, uh… a kid got lost earlier, and I took care of him until his dad came and found him. I guess they came back and dropped off the letter," you explained, before starting a new pot of caf. 

"By his dad, do you mean a Mandalorian? In unpainted beskar?" They asked, sounding bewildered. 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Did you notice his signet? It'd be on his right shoulder." 

"It looked like a mudhorn… why? What's this about?" They blinked at you. 

"Didn't you hear he was coming here? I'm pretty sure that was _the_ Mandalore and his son."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily influenced by Everything And More by AcademiaCrypt. That story is much better than mine, go read it.
> 
> I also wanted to note a couple of things about reader's siblings in this fic: one, "Vannie" is sounds like "Connie": and two, the reader's nickname, which will be used occasionally, as needed, doesn't come from a name. The kids call her "Bee" because when they were younger, Stel mispronounced "big sister" as "Bee Easter", and it was so cute that it stuck! Credit for that one goes to my real life middle sibling, though I didn't end up going by it. 
> 
> Mando'a words and phrases (courtesy of mandoa.org, though I admit I did fudge the grammar/syntax of a couple things because I couldn't find how adjectives work in the forum):
> 
> Vor entye- thank you/I am indebted (lit. "I accept a debt")
> 
> Kotep- brave
> 
> Dala- woman
> 
> Mesh'la- beautiful
> 
> Mand'alor- title of the ruler of Mandalore
> 
> Sarad- petal/flower

Din sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. Grogu, the little womp rat, had been back for a visit for less than a full _hour_ before he'd scampered off earlier. _Vor entye to that baker,_ he thought, _who knows what he could get up to in a city the size of a whole planet._ The child in question had just fallen asleep for his nap, having been particularly chatty after his little adventure. 

They were headed back to Mandalore now, to the bio-cube that had been built at the heart of Keldabe. Din's one insistence while negotiating with Bo-Katan had been re-establishing the ancient capital, rather than putting power back in Sundari; While he understood, and largely agreed with, the sentiment that ecological conservation had to be a priority, the symbolism and the message of what the domed city had led to was not lost on him. He refused to give the impression that he would be willing to cooperate with the likes of the Empire, as Satine Kryze once had.

He had met the Jedi on Taris as a point of convenience; it wasn't as far for him to travel to as Yavin-4, and the Jedi would be able to resupply the Temple with bacta and other essentials that were hard to come by in the Outer Rim. 

Once the anxiety from almost losing Grogu- _again-_ had worn off, Din found himself thinking about the woman who had protected the child. She obviously didn't know who he was in the least, and it impressed him that she had stood between himself and Grogu until the kid had run over on his own. Din had also noticed the blaster she had reached for when she'd suspected him to be a threat to the child. It wasn't that she hadn't been afraid to go toe to toe with a Mandalorian- _any_ Mandalorian, let alone one with a kill list as extensive as his was- it was that she had been willing to give her _life_ to protect this child, whom she had just met less than an hour earlier. _Kotep dala_.

That was something that had to be respected. Plus, the pastry really had been delicious. Not to _mention_ the smile she had given him before he left, or the shine of her hair, or-- _Okay, get ahold of yourself,_ he chided. _Don't do anything stupid. Bo-Katan puts up with enough._

_Though, her shop could clearly use more revenue…_

* * *

The next month passed in a blur, busy as you almost always were. You didn't have all that many customers, but the ones you had were loyal. You had just about pinned the perfect batch size per day of the week; your mother, bless her, had started the bakery section of the shop, and while you continued to use her recipes… well, she had never _quite_ worked out the fine balance between supply and demand that small businesses always needed to tread. You'd oftentimes lived off of unsold sweets, or sold out by mid-morning. 

You'd hardly had time to think- nothing new, and you'd never been one to get lost in your thoughts regardless- but whenever you did, the flash of beskar plagued you. You had yet to find out for certain whether your "mystery Mando"- as Vannie called him, much to your chagrin- was, in fact, the ruler of Mandalore; Stel was absolutely certain, but the man you'd spoken to didn't come across as very regal. Of course, that could be because he was worried about his son; that would be a perfectly acceptable answer. Still, you had a hard time picturing him giving orders. You'd met a few Mandos in your day, due to your proximity to their homeworld, and he definitely wasn't the most intimidating among them. 

Still, he'd had a certain _presence_ about him. His voice… his clear affection towards the kid… even just his body language intrigued you. You caught yourself hoping he would find his way back, though you knew it was unlikely. They weren't local- his accent suggested he was from further out than Mandalore, maybe as far as the Western Reaches. And if he really _was_ the Mandalore? What reason would he ever have to visit your broken-down shop again? It was just a fantasy. Just like how you'd imagined that his hand lingered for a moment after you'd handed him the little bag with the stupid strudel. 

You sighed to yourself, wiping down the counter for yet more dough. This afternoon seemed longer than most, for some reason. As you sprinkled some flour down, the bells chimed familiarly, and you put on your customer service smile. 

"Hello, how can I help you?" You asked, not looking up from the rectangle of dough you were unwrapping. 

"Hello again," said a familiar, gravelly voice. You dropped the dough- onto the counter it was intended for, thank the stars- and looked up. There stood the Mandalorian. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "If you're busy, I can come back later-" 

"Nonsense," you cut him off, turning to wash your hands in the sink. You turned back, your smile notably more genuine. "See, this is why I gave you the strudel," you told him with a wink, "had to make sure you'd come back. What can I get you? Caf? Doughnut?" He scanned the display. 

"I… I've never had most of these things," he admitted. "Um… I'll get that one," he decided, pointing out a pecan tart. You smiled and got a paper bag to grab it for him. 

"Good choice. No little guy today?" You asked, admittedly disappointed not to see him. 

"No, he's off at… school," said Mando. "He was on a break when we met you." You nodded understandingly. While he seemed a little young for school, you knew better than to question it. 

"Sure I can't get you that caf?" You asked. He shook his head and politely declined. "Alright, then, that'll be half a credit." 

After you had made the exchange, he was silent for a moment, holding the little packet, before tucking it carefully into his shoulder bag. 

"I was actually wondering… would you want to go for a walk, or… something? With me." The way he'd worded it was awkward, and really, you had work to do… but what the Hoth. You hadn't had time for fun in ages, and unless you made time, it would never come. Your smile widened, unbidden, and you nodded. 

"Yes!" You exclaimed. A little too excited. You cleared your throat, hanging up your apron and walking around the counter. "Just let me get someone to watch the store, I'll be right back," you assured him as you walked into the back, and up the stairs to your family's apartment. 

_"Stel!_ I need you to watch the shop!" You called. You heard their groan; it was the weekend for them. 

"Do I have to? Can't Vannie do it?" They asked. You appeared in their bedroom doorway. You lowered your voice to barely above a whisper as they looked up from their holopad. 

"Stel. He's back," you told them incredulously. "I think he just asked me on a _date?_ I can't tell. Do I look okay? Is there flour in my hair?" They gaped at you for a second, before launching off the bed, pulling the hairnet you'd forgotten about off of you. They made some minor adjustments to your hair and put a swipe of lipstick on you in record time, before shoving you towards the stairs, hot on your heels. When you got back to the shop, Mando wasn't by the counter, and for a moment, your heart sank, thinking he'd gone. But then, his helmet peeked out from behind one of the aisles, followed by the rest of him. Your smile returned. 

"Stel, there are some chocolatines to be rolled out," you let them know, "but I doubt you'll actually have any customers… I should be back soon. I'll take a commlink. Let me know if you need me, but if it's just Vannie picking on you, _please,_ don't make it bigger than it is. There's-" Stel rolled their eyes at you. 

"Get out of here, before I get Vannie down here to pick on _you,"_ they replied, gesturing to the door. "Have fun, stay safe, and _get her home by midnight!"_ They mockingly shook their fist at Mando. 

He chuckled as you both stepped into the golden, early afternoon sunlight. The light became hazy long before dark on Taris, due to the thick, yellow smog that hung like a miasma over the less affluent areas. Even the rich only escaped it by making their buildings so tall, they pierced through the pollution to what little fresh air remained above. You suddenly felt a little nervous, aware that your companion was from off-world, and therefore not accustomed to breathing the air here. 

"I… you're not from around here," you broached, a little awkwardly. He tilted his helmet at you curiously as you walked. 

"What makes you say that?" He asked, his tone genuinely curious. 

"Well… you have a bit of an accent, is all… well, that and all the Mandos I've seen around here before have had their armour painted," you said. He chuckled. 

"Me, too. It's unusual," he assured you. "What were you going to say?" 

"Hm?" 

"It sounded like you wanted to say something," he prompted. 

"Oh… right." Flushing, you rubbed the back of your neck. "I just wanted to say, I know the pollution is pretty bad, so if you want to get away from the smell, we can go to the greenhouses or somewhere indoors…"

"I- I hadn't noticed," he admitted. 

"My helmet has a breath mask, so- Hang on, you don't have one," he realized, stopping in his tracks and turning to look at you. His gloved hand gently took hold of your forearm. "Where would you like to go? You're right, I… don't really know what there is to do here." You were a little surprised at his concern; while he was clearly a capable and loving father, the sheer number of weapons he was equipped with made it obvious that he expected some kind of trouble- unless he just carried those everywhere. It didn't make sense that he should care about the state of your lungs.

"Well… it's been a while since I got to see any plants, if you don't mind going to the public gardens," you suggested, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you felt his continued gaze. "That one's free to anyone, I used to go there all the time as a kid…" you smiled, thinking of how your father would tiredly troop around with you, fondly exasperated. You had always loved the gardens. 

"That sounds lovely," Mando agreed, his hand sliding down your arm to tentatively hold yours as you led the way. 

The gardens were packed. The line just to get in was around the corner; and, if you were honest, it didn't look as nice in real life as it did through the rose-coloured glasses of fond memories. As Mando returned to your side from a call he'd just finished, you bit your lip, wary of wasting his time.

"I'm sorry, maybe this wasn't the best idea…" you trailed off. He shook his head, gesturing to the other conservatory, across the way. There was no line to enter, as usual. You did, however, notice several people leaving, looking disgruntled.

"Why don't we go to that one?" He asked. You sighed, looking at the larger, better-kept facility with no small amount of envy. 

"That one… it's very exclusive," you explained. "It's expensive to get in… I don't even think I _know_ anyone who's ever gone." He shrugged. Shrugged. 

"But would you like to?" He asked, as though that were all that mattered. You blinked at him, wishing you could read his expression. 

"Well… _yes,"_ you admitted, looking at the pavement. "But-" he held a finger up, dropping your hand and holding two fingers over his ear, on the outside of his helmet. 

"Hello?" He asked whoever was on the other end of the comm. He dropped the finger he'd held up to you, his shoulders visibly sagging. He turned to look at you. 

"I'm sorry, I'll be right back," he promised, before walking a short distance away once more. It wasn't a particularly long conversation, and you tried not to watch him, looking up into the yellowish clouds instead to give him some semblance of privacy. Soon enough, he returned, slipping his hand into yours easily. "Sorry, that's the last call. Let's go," he insisted, squeezing your hand and moving toward the crosswalk before you could protest. 

At the door, the steward tripped over her words as she tried to welcome Mando, who didn't even need to say anything. He simply nodded his thanks as he escorted you into the warm, fresh air of the botanical gardens. You blinked in amazement at the towering palms and lush greenery. Birds and pollinating insects flew freely within the pavilion, singing and landing like additional blooms on leaves and petals. The two of you walked companionably, with you pointing out any flowers you particularly liked, and Mando pointing out which plants were good to eat, and which ones were toxic. You wondered if he knew from his own experience.

You realized about half an hour in that there were no other patrons _at all,_ which made you suspect that perhaps this had been his plan all along. At that thought, you felt your stomach flutter- _surely, those calls… The people leaving… Would he have sent away all the other visitors just to talk with me?_ You might've just been being paranoid, but then… The girl at the front had been very deferential to the Mandalorian. _Maybe Stel was right._

As you closed your eyes, your head tilted up at the glass ceiling in embarrassment, you felt a tiny touch on the tip of your nose. You opened your eyes, and to your astonishment, found a small butterfly perched on you. You couldn't see it perfectly, since it was so close, but it was black, with white, blue, and a splash of bright vermillion. You held perfectly still, grasping Mando's hand tighter to signal to him to stop. About a minute passed, with you hardly even daring to breathe as it rested, its wings fluttering slightly, before it left. 

_"Wow,"_ you breathed as you watched it fly away. A grin crept over your face as you turned to your companion in disbelief. Any embarrassment about him possibly having ordered the other patrons to be escorted out had evaporated. "Did you see that?" You asked, and he nodded. 

"Maybe it thought you were a flower, _mesh'la,"_ he theorized, making you blush. You couldn't remember the last time that anyone had given you a compliment like that. You looked away, embarrassed, and shifted on your feet. 

"Th-thank you," you murmured. 

He cleared his throat and pointed to something over your shoulder. "Those fruits, see the tiny orange ones?" You let out a sigh of relief, turning to look. "They're delicious, but if you eat too many, your mouth will swell up. Or… maybe I'm just allergic," he admitted, shrugging. You giggled. 

"Those are kumquats," you told him, "we use them to make jam sometimes when there's a good shipment. It _definitely_ sounds like you're allergic, if you ask me." 

He looked down at the floor and shook his head. 

"Taking on the Empire? _Easy_. Killing a Krayt dragon? _Sure,_ no problem. A handful of these tiny little citruses, and I'm gone, though," he laughed. You looked at him, stunned. The _Empire?_ If this man wasn't the Mandalore… who else could he possibly be?

"I'm going to need to hear those stories at some point," you informed him. 

"It's not nearly as glamorous as it sounds, I assure you," he sighed, amusement still touching his voice. "Next time, maybe." 

* * *

He walked you home as the sun began to set, painting the world in deep orange and gold. You were both somewhat quieter after leaving the garden, your main point of conversation having been the plants. 

"Can I ask you a question?" 

"Hmm?" 

"I hope this isn't rude, but… are you the Mandalore? I keep thinking you can't be, because you don't have a security detail or anything, but then, you do something like emptying out that _whole_ garden…" you trailed off. 

"I am," he admitted. You noticed he didn't deny your accusation about the greenhouse. "The _Mand'alor_ doesn't have bodyguards, _sarad_. I can protect myself and my family. If I couldn't, I wouldn't have this title. Although," he turned to you, coming to a stop in front of your store, "I do admit that Grogu can be difficult to protect sometimes… so I'm glad that when he ran off, he wandered right to you." You fidgeted under his gaze. 

"Will… you come back?" You asked, looking behind the visor to where you knew his eyes must be. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. 

"Would you like me to?" He rebutted, his voice betraying only the smallest hint of anxiety. You nodded with an easy smile. 

"I would," you confirmed. 

"Then, I will," he answered, gently nudging your forehead with his own helmeted one. You smiled at the intimacy of the gesture, and found yourself leaning up after him as he pulled away. You hardly noticed the sound of a window opening on the upper floor until Vannie's voice reached you. 

"Are you _kissing?"_ She shrieked. "Stel, we have to beat up a Mando!" 

You groaned, looking up to see both teens leaning out of the living room window. 

"I'm gonna kill both of you," you said, though there was no threat in your voice. Mando chuckled, cupping your cheek in his palm. 

"Goodnight," he murmured. "I'll send a comm soon, okay?" You nodded, returning your attention to him. 

"Okay," you agreed, "Goodnight."


End file.
